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Daniel Larusso and I were supposed to have a dudes’ night out, just him and me. And we got maybe an hour in before he bailed.

The plan was to meet at the Golf n’ Stuff family entertainment center at 8:30. Just a couple of bros hitting the air hockey table, maybe the front nine of the miniature golf course. Who knows, things get crazy, me and Danny-boy might even hit the waterslides a little later; I told him to bring his suit.

8:55 Daniel shows up (no swimming trunks). He said he was helping a friend out and lost track of the time. I knew he was talking about that little old Chinese guy, but I don’t press the issue.

9:12 We’re finishing up a couple a slices, a couple a root beers, no big deal. Daniel starts bragging on his air hockey skills. “Is that a challenge?” I ask with a raised eyebrow, standing from my seat with my arms out at full wingspan. “You want some of this, Larusso?” Daniel looks around nervously and tells me to keep my voice down.

9:16 Butcher: 5, Laurusso: 1. I’m like Ovechkin on the air hockey table. Suddenly, I hear Daniel’s gay, Peter Cetera ring tone go off and he calls time out. I’m like, “Time out? This is air hockey.” But he takes the call. He’s doing a lot more listening than talking. When he finally gets off, I ask, “Who was that?”

“Just a friend,” he says.

9:19 Game, set, match, bitch. Butcher 11, Larusso 3.

9:20 We pass a photo booth. “Hey, man, what do you say? My treat?” I say, gesturing towards the photo-op behind the curtain. He gives me a look like, “are you for real?” Oh, I’m for real, Karate Kid. I’m so for real.

9:24 I bet Daniel that, in four turns, he can’t pull a plush M&M doll from the claw-crane machine. He’s all, “you know I caught a fly with some chopsticks, right?” and takes the bet. “They’re having a beach party later tonight. You wanna check it out,” I ask him. He suddenly starts getting all squirrelly on me. “I might have something else to do.”

9:26 Daniel hands me a yellow M&M doll and says, “You lose.” But I just got a yellow plush M&M doll for fifty cents. I’d say that’s a WIN if ever there was one.

9:28 So, I’m feeling like it’s time to get our putt-putt on. But when I bring it up, Daniel-son says, “I got this thing…” What? “Dude, this was supposed to be Bros’ Night Out.” He corrects me, saying it’s called “Dudes’ night out.” Fine. “Bro, this was supposed to be Dude’s Night Out, now you’re dissing me? It’s that Mr. Miyajji, isn’t it?” “Miya-gi,” he says, “and maybe. What’s it to you?”

Killin' the Skee Ball

9:34 Daniel and I hit the skee ball machine. After about six games, neither of us talking to each other, Daniel says, “I might take off in a bit.” “ I roll my eyes. “Do you want my tickets,” he asks. Of course I do. Daniel walks away.

9:37 Lonely and tired, I do a lap around the arcade. Then I realize, “what law says I can’t go on the water slide… by myself.”

9:39 I’m heading for the exit when I hear, “On second thought, how about those pictures.”

He left right after we took the photos. It was the shortest Dudes’ Night Out on record. But, as time passes, and that strip of photos becomes clearer than my memory, I think back fondly on that special night at Golf n’ Stuff.

The only rule is that you have to pick one of the immediate Conners women living in the house. Saying “I’d F* Jackie” is out. Every guy wants to tag Laurie Metcalf; that’s like saying I wanna bang Megan Fox. Uh duh. (F* Jackie… Baba booey).

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F*:

This might surprise you, but I’m going with Darlene.

Thanks for Keeping My Seat Warm, Old Man

So we’re hanging out, watching a Bulls game. She’s draped in the crochet-throw from the back of the couch. I get wood. She then mentions that Derrick Rose can push the ball, but he’s got no jumper from the right of the key. I lose wood.

“Do you want some,” she says, holding up the throw. “Oh, I want some. But I ain’t talking about a blanket…if you know what I mean,” I say, then growl like a wild cat. She rolls her eyes and stands up. “Easy, Casanova. I was gonna give you some anyway.”

Minus a lecture on how my brand of Jimmyz aren’t bio-degradable, the sex is actually amazing. She won’t do it with the lights on, but she’s real into trying whatever. After we finish, she sparks up a j and asks if I want to “take a toke off of this refer.”

Turns out that wasn’t just bad writing; they actually talk like that in Lanford.

The reception is down at the Elk’s Lodge. The party only set me back 600 bucks since Roseanne got the Lanford Luncheonette to cater the whole thing.

The highlight of the night is me dancing with the bride’s sister (you haven’t lived until you’ve whispered into Laurie Metcalf’s ear, “God, you smell amazing”).

The first few months are filled with trips to Wal Mart and TJ Maxx; Always about making two ends meet. Even with my high-paying blog writing job, there never seems to be enough. But every day is still a Loggins-and-Messina-Danny’s-Song moment. Our love makes me the richest man in the world.

Then, the mistake of a lifetime.

I’m three hours in to an epic Conners poker game. It’s me, Leon, Arnie and Mark. I’m down big, six bucks, but I’m holding a straight. Arnie calls. “I’ll see your 2.75, and I’ll raise you a buck.” He knows I don’t have that kind of money. “Then put up a night with Rosie…” A night with my wife? The most indecent proposal… but I’m holding a straight. Done. I throw down. So does he. Full house, deuces over kings.

Roseanne doesn’t take the news well. I get the boot. Once in a while I bump into her at the Firehouse on Bingo Night, or at the dollar store on Rt. 7. She has a look of scorn like you could never imagine. On Valentines Day I sent her a mix CD. 16 tracks, all the same song… Danny’s Song.

I know that she picks her loser husband up at work every night at seven. So I hang out in the shadows of the garage, waiting for her pull up. At five till, low and behold…

I lie in wait. I can hear “Another Day in Paradise” blaring from her car before she shuts it off. This bitch is going down.

Suddenly, I hear the garage door rolling down for the night. It’s Mark. I jump from the shadows and tackle Becky. “Shoulda stuck with David, huh?”

Then I feel a kick in the back that must’ve come from Thor himself. I look up; it’s Dan Conner. Damn, I forgot he worked here too. “This is for banging my daughter,” he says, then punches me so hard in my chest that my shoulders touch.

When I come to, I’m on a gurney, flooded in the lights of an ambulance. I look around at what looks like the entire town of Lanford sans George Clooney. Bonnie, Crystal and Nancy are consoling Becky. Dan is giving his account of the story to Officer Harris (God, Jackie looks so hot in that uniform).

Look For Laurie in Next Month's Issue of Maxim

As they lift me into the ambulance I suddenly see Roseanne. We lock eyes for a moment and I yell out, “Even though we ain’t got money, I’m so in love with you honey…”

I was searching FM stations, just 2 or 3 seconds each to hear what’s on. As I flipped to one of them, I heard: “August 10, meet gay actor Danny Pintauro at Barnes and Noble in Centerville…”

Danny Pintauro, gay? I took a deep breath and said, “Impossible. Look, you’re almost home. Then we’ll jump on the world wide web and get to the bottom of this. “

And so I did, starting with:

http://www.google.com I type in “Danny Pintauro Straight.” Did you mean Danny Pintauro is so Gay?” So I click on the first web result.

Danny-pintauro-com. Hells yes. Take me to the e-promise land. Except when I click on it, I get an IP address, and a message saying the site is under “system maintenance.” Probably because he’s nailing some chick.

If you want the truth, you need to hit up the gospel of entertainment facts…

Danny’s IMDB page. I start looking at the credits. Hmmm, speaking on gaping holes, what was he doing between the end of WTB in ’92 and the Still Life in ’07. Let’s see, credits include WTB, Cujo, and Highway to Heaven. Ain’t nothing gay with that (well, except the episode title of H2H was “Man’s Best Friend.”).

Let’s check out the bio link. Oh, he’s an Eagle Scout. I’d rather tie a square knot than a balloon knot. What else is – oh, what’s this? A man charged with writing harassing letters to Danny committed suicide in 1990 (for the record, I didn’t commit suicide). So, the guy’s a bit of a dick magnet. Doesn’t mean he’s…

Enjoys watching old reruns of Who’s the Boss. For him, he says, it’s like looking through a yearbook. Okay, that’s kinda gay.

Came out as gay in July 1997. Oof.

Dejected, I hit the back button on my browser, clicked another link, found a very NOT-WORK-FRIENDLY picture of little Jonathan Bowers (I don’t have the “balls” to link to it in this post, but a simple google image search will put you on the path not taken), and ended up in the shower, feeling like bugs were crawling on me as the theme song to the Crying Game played in my head…

Before there was TMZ, there was Earl the Butcher, sifting through all of the celebrity gossip and urban wives thingies. Here are ten of the top celebrity rumors I heard back in the day:

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Mike D Died

I was in fifth grade when this one broke. For those of you too young to remember the Beastie Boys back then, let me make this comparison: Hip Hop losing Mike D would be like if the ’99 Lakers lost Travis Knight. It hit the community hard. Of course, they revived him just before Paul’s Botique, thus, “I’m Mike D and I’m back from the dead.”

Rumor: TRUE

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Mike D and Screech are Brothers

I was a little older when this one broke. Mike D had died a few years back. Then somebody finally made the connection:

Michael Diamond and Dustin Diamond are related. And it checks out. Turns out they were the offspring of a couple named Neil and Blood.

Rumor: TRUE

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Madonna Peed on her Athletes’ Foot

I didn’t want to believe this one when it surfaced; unfortunately it’s absolutely true.

In related news, I told my wife I had Athletes’ Chest. Turns out she still doesn’t believe the rumor.

Rumor: TRUE

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Eddie Murphy Picked Up a Man, Baby

Eddie Murphy, who dropped the word “faggot” a combined 54 times in Delirious and Raw, and did a whole set on how much pussy he gets, picked up a tranny prostitute? No way. Oh, yes way. It happened. Eddie pulled up the skirt and a different kind of “big brown shark came.”

Rumor: TRUE

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Richard Gere Stuck a Gerbil Up His Bunghole

Oh, totally true. A friend of mine’s aunt is a nurse at the emergency room in Missouri where Cindy Crawford rushed him after it happened. The gerbil was shaved bare, declawed, and nicknamed “an Officer.”

Rumor: TRUE

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Walt Disney was Cryogenicaly Frozen

This one seems almost too mundane to even be a rumor. He is indeed frozen in a chamber buried underneath Magic Kingdom. The part that is in question is whether execs really woke him up for a screening of the rough cut of Tron. I doubt it.

He sleeps in an hyperbaric chamber, speaks in a normal voice when no one is around, bought the Elephant Man’s skull, suffers from vitiligo and called it Splitsville once and for all with Macaulay Culkin All true. Every last one of them.

Rumor: TRUE

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Jamie Lee Curtis is a Hermaphrodite

JLC ’s got more junk in the front than she does in the trunk. Freak.

Rumor: TRUE

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You Can't Reach What Isn't There

Marilyn Manson Removed a Rib So He Could Suck His Joint

Fo Shizzle: Marilyn did it. The man underwent a 30k surgery so he could service his own iPud. Who knew it was just a simple rib standing between me, third base and me? Brutal.

Upon login, Netflix creates categories of movies they think you’ll like, based on your previous rentals. Sometimes they make perfect sense: the third category down my recommended list is: “Gritty Movies Based on Real Life.” They compiled a list of movies including Cinderella Man, My Left Foot, and Glory, based on my interest in Goodfellas, Tombstone and Escape From Alcatraz.

Other times, they make no sense: my second category is “Underdog Stories.” “Based on your interest in Home Alone and Rocky, you might like Snow Dogs.” Being that I would rather check the lights in a Christian Bale scene than watch a Cuba Gooding Jr. movie , I figured they were off.

Scoot Over

But upon login this evening, the number one category on my Netflix recommendations was “Movies Starring Matt Damon.”

Ew. How gay, I thought to myself. Why would they have a – and then I saw it: based on your previous rentals of Bourne Identity, Talented Mr. Ripley, and the Rain Maker, you may like…

Yeah, so, maybe those were the last three films I watched. That doesn’t mean I’d be interested in, oh, let’s see, what are they recommending for me… Saving Private Ryan. I click on it. “This movie is already in your Queue.”

Coincidence. I mean, I like war movies. Don’t believe me? Ask my wife. We just watched Courage Under Fire. I didn’t particularly buy Meg Ryan in it, but Matt Damon was… coincidence.

Netflix is also recommending Ocean’s Eleven. Well, I already saw it on cable. I typically wouldn’t watch a movie like that but I thought I would give it a chance because Matt Damon was – shit.

Those Dumbbells are Having All the Fun

My next thought was, rearrange the queue. Let’s put some distance between my last and next Matt Damon film. So I throw Saving Ryan’s Privates to the… oh geez. I throw Saving Private Ryan to the bottom and move up, let’s see, Rounders, no. School Ties? Wait, how did a Brandon Fraser movie make it on my… oh, little Charlie Dillon. My queue has Good Will Hunting, the Rain Maker (wait, didn’t I just watch that?), Will and Grace (one episode, A Chorus Line), Ocean’s 12-16, the Departed and the Good Shepherd.

So, do I need to come to grips with the fact the last four movies I’ve watched starred Matt Damon? That all fourteen movies in my queue list are Matt Damon movies? That I saved an Entertainment Weekly from 2004 with him on the cover? That I photoshopped my head over Ben Affleck’s in his Oscar pic with Matt? That I just called him “Matt?”

Mustaches aren’t like hair styles where there’s this unlimited number of them to choose from. There’s only like five of them out there. When Hitler went out and murdered 8 million people, he kinda reduced the options by like 20 percent. It was pretty cool when it was called the “abbreviated-stache.” Not so cool when it suddenly became “The Hitler.”

For men of my generation, you don’t miss what you’ve never had. But for those who were wearing it duringWWII? The following is a brief conversation between one of those men and his peers.

Charlie’s Boy Sits Him Down

One of his Boys: Dude, you gotta either grow it into a goatee or a full mustache, or you gotta shave it off all together.

Charlie Chaplin: Man, I’ve been rocking the abbreviated-stache since the 20’s, son.

One of his Boys, Doesn’t matter. You need to lose it.

Another One of his Boys: What about the fu manchu?

One of his Boys: Donnie, shut the fuck up. Charlie, people are heil-ing you behind your back. Believe me, you don’t need the aggravation.

You know that question where people ask you if you had to be stranded on a deserted island, what would you bring with you? I’d bring Hulk Hogan.

Then we’d build a tropical wrestling ring where the ropes were made from vines and the turnbuckles from coconuts. And a lemur would hop into the ring just as I threw the Hulkster into a sleeper hold. And the lemur would hold Hogan’s arm up and let it drop… a sure sign that he was fading in my death-grip sleeper hold. But on the third and final time the lemur held up Hogan’s arm, it wouldn’t drop… it would start rocking up and down. And Hogan would break free. And I would try to punch him, but he’d block it and counter with a shot of his own that would send me to the sand. Then he’d cup his ear asking the fans to let him hear it. But there aren’t any fans because we’re on a deserted island so Hogan would go off the vines and finish me off with a leg drop. And for years to come we would observe that day as Awesome Day.